Supports in Prose
by Blonde Panther
Summary: Various games. A series of support conversations that never happened but honestly should have. Written out in prose form rather than script form. Current: Marth and Merric (Shadow Dragon) C through A.
1. Marth and Merric C

**Disclaimer:** Fire Emblem and all related characters, names, and concepts belong to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. **  
** **Characters:** Varies per installment- will be listed in the chapter title and within the chapter itself. _ **  
Author's Notes:** People who know me on a personal level know that I am a self-proclaimed support whore; they provide so much material to work with as well as just insight into characters that I consider them one of the best parts of Fire Emblem. As such, it's probably no surprise that I find it anything ranging from disappointing to outright criminal that certain characters don't have supports between them! In this series, I hope to write out some decent-quality supports, albeit in prose form rather than script form, for character combinations that didn't have them in their respective games.  
_

 _First up are Marth and Merric, childhood friends who DO support each other stat-wise but for some reason never got any support conversations together in New Mystery. What is up with that? Before I get to New Mystery supports though, I wanted to do some Shadow Dragon ones, to cover some topics about the years they spent apart. Sue me, I like these close friendships._

* * *

 **Marth and Merric- C**

The camp was almost unnaturally tranquil today. With the road ahead uncertain, Marth had called for patience while he had sent scouts ahead to secure their path and ascertain the positions of enemy troops. With no hard travel to be done and no battle to be fought, the troops used this time to rest, to tend to their mounts and their weapons, and check the supply stores.

Merric found himself sitting under a tree in the middle of camp, lazily flipping through the pages of Excalibur while occasionally looking up at the people walking by. No one really caught his eye until the army's commander stood in front of him. "Hey, Merric," he said, smiling. "So this is where you went."

Marth had been looking for him? He sat a little straighter, respectfully shutting the tome in his lap. "Is something the matter, sire?" he asked, now concerned.

Marth frowned. "Yes, actually." He gestured towards him. "That is."

Merric didn't understand. He thought for a moment, but finally had to shake his head in confusion. "Beg… pardon?"

"You keep calling me 'sire,'" Marth said, crossing his arms and suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "You promised me years ago you wouldn't do that." That was what this was about? It seemed so minor.

Now uncomfortably aware of his own choice of words, he tapped the tome on his free hand. "But… you are the crown prince of Altea and my liege lord. I'm supposed to show the proper respect, aren't I?"

"But you're Altean nobility too," Marth said, lowering himself to the ground and crossing his legs under him as he sat down next to Merric. "And you've been my best friend since we were children. Surely, friends can respect each other without the need for formalities." He shook his head. "I know we've not been in touch during the past years, but I was hoping that hadn't changed."

"That's not it," Merric hurried to say. "I guess I've just grown accustomed to addressing people by title. The more accomplished scholars and mages in Khadein were quite.. adamant… in that. I was at the bottom rung like any other student, and some of them expected us to grovel."

"They demanded this of a nobleman?" Marth looked incredulous. In Altea, it was unheard of for a commoner, no matter how educated ot accomplished, to make any sort of demand of anyone born into the nobility.

Merric shook his head. "They didn't know about my parentage. I didn't want it to define me at the academy, so I never told them about it. I wanted to be valued for myself, not for my parents, privileges, or gold."

"That makes sense…" Marth muttered, although he still looked a little bewildered at the audacity of the scholars Merric had spoken of. Finally, he smiled. "It does sound like something you'd do." Merric turned a little red in embarrassment. He'd always felt like sort of the laughing stock of the Altean nobility for his complete lack of talent with a sword, and admittedly, this didn't make him fit in any more either.

He scratched the nape of his neck. "Besides… with Altea in the state it's in…" he shook his head. "Being Altean nobility is not exactly something that commands respect at the moment."

Marth chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. "That's true, but by that logic you definitely shouldn't be using titles with me. It's as you say…" he rested his chin in his hand, staring into the distance. "Altea is in shambles, and her prince, an exile. At this point, I neither deserve nor require a title."

For a brief moment, Merric thought to remind him that even if he were no longer a prince –which he was, but that was a whole other argument- he was still the commander of an army, and the other, contracted soldiers and mercenaries had to know to respect him. However, he sighed, deciding instead to just drop the subject. Marth was right. They were friends- using titles with each other felt unnatural, anyway. "You must be the only royal who's ever insisted on _not_ being called by title, Marth," he said, grinning.

"Now, that's better."


	2. Marth and Merric B

**Marth and Merric- B**

The mess tent was always a rabid chaos, Merric thought to himself bitterly, but today was especially bad. He elbowed his way through the more roughly-hewn soldiers to snatch his bowl of stew so he could leave, heaving a relieved sigh as he could sit down with it. He wasn't surprised in the slightest when Marth sat down next to him with his own bowl. "It's like the mess hall at the academy," the mage complained, "except with more muscle."

Marth laughed. "Well, there at least the shoving and pushing could have been prevented if people had known who you were. You brought that upon yourself by frantically keeping your parentage a secret."

"Well, I didn't 'frantically keep it a secret,'" Merric said. "I just didn't shout it from the rooftops. A handful of people did know, though. For one, the higher-ups that enrolled me." He thought for a moment, gesturing his head to the stocky, powerful wizard on the other side of the table. "Master Wendell, too, obviously. And then there's Ellerean –he studies under Master Wendell with me- he must have seen a letter that Mother had addressed to my full name and title. He must have pieced it together, he's not let me live it down since."

"And those are the only ones?" Marth interrupted his meal to comment. "That really is only a handful." For a moment, they were silent, until the prince picked the conversation back up: "So, I don't think I ever asked: how were your studies?"

Merric's face lit up and he forgot all about his meal. "Fantastic! Ellerean may be a bit aloof but he's an okay guy once you get to know him, so I was in good company. And because it was just the two of us under his wing, Master Wendell had more time to teach us and go into details. When I ran into a problem with my thesis I could-" he finally registered the grin on Marth's face, realizing he'd gone off into a tangent. "S-sorry. I won't bore you with the details," he said, suddenly embarrassed, as he lowered the hands he had been frantically gesturing with. "But yeah. I got lucky having Master Wendell for a tutor. Honestly, that's made me more privileged than my parentage did."

"Wow," Marth muttered, genuinely impressed. He'd listened to every word of Merric's tangent, and took a few seconds to let it sink in. "That sounds… different."

"I guess it is," Merric said, putting his spoon to his chin as he raised his eyes to the tent ceiling in thought. "At least, compared to learning swordplay from your father and retainers like most of us do." Merric had never been any good with a sword. Marth himself had recommended he find something else to learn to defend himself with, calling him a threat to himself with a blade in hand. "I'd make the same decision a million times over."

"I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing, per se," Marth hurried to clarify. "If anything, I'm glad you found something that comes naturally to you. I know I couldn't be trusted with a tome." Merric thought the conversation over at that point, as both friends finished their meal in silence. However, once again, it was Marth who spoke. "And besides… your stay in Khadein may very well be the reason you're still alive, and that's a huge plus."

He had to think on that for a few seconds before the weight of his friend's words hit him full-force. "You speak of the fall of Altea…"

"I do." Marth placed his spoon in his bowl, crossing his arms on the table and suddenly looking five years older. "I don't know the exact names and numbers… I didn't stay around to investigate… but I imagine most of our peers didn't make it."

"I know how you feel," Merric said, patting him on the back sympathetically. "When word reached Khadein about Gra's treason and Altea's losses, I didn't know what to do with myself for weeks until word finally arrived from Father."

"From your father…" Marth muttered, not looking at him. Merric barely heard him.

"Even Ellerean didn't hound me about things in that period, so I guess my distress must have been that obvious. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear Father and Mother were alright, albeit subjugated and unable to deny the rumours that King Cornelius, Queen Liza, Princess Elice, and you were all…"

To his surprise, Marth suddenly stood up from the table, still not looking at him. "I'm sorry, Merric," he said as he turned around, leaving his bowl where it was, "I just remembered I was to meet Hardin in the commander's tent."

"Marth?" He ran off before Merric could stop him and point out Lord Hardin was sitting a few yards away. What had gotten into him? He'd gotten quiet when Merric had mentioned the letter from his father…

…damn it. His father. Of course. He smacked himself in the forehead hard enough that some of the surrounding soldiers looked at him with confusion. "Why do you always blurt out the first thing that comes to mind?" he muttered to himself. He had to fix this. With luck, he could get hold of Marth as early as tomorrow morning.


End file.
